Pasithea
by VR Trakowski
Summary: Caine doesn't sleep much.


**The characters and situations in this story belong to the Wachowskis, Dune Entertainment, Village Roadshow Pictures, and other entities, and I do not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine, no you can't have any. The opinions expressed by characters in this story may or may not be those of the author.**

 **I really should be working on the next chapter of _Rise_ , but I read a short _Teen Wolf_ Sterek fic yesterday-which I now canNOT find on Tumblr-and the muse went "hey, why not?" So. I'm sure you can see where this one is going, but that never stopped her. **

**If anyone can ID the original fic for me, please let me know and I will acknowledge it properly!**

* * *

Caine can't remember the last time he slept.

No, that's not strictly true; he sleeps, from time to time, catnaps and snatches and an hour's dozing here and there. What he can't remember is lying down somewhere safe and just _sleeping_ , shutting everything off and crawling into oblivion for hours at a stretch.

It's not surprising. One doesn't sleep in the Deadland, it's a good way to wake up dead; he would put his back against something solid and shut his eyes for a while, but he could never relax completely.

But even before that, in the Legion, he could never sleep for long, because of the dreams. It's not like being a soldier didn't provide enough subjects for nightmares, but they go back longer than that, back to when the weak little runt was the target for anyone in a bad mood and the specter of failure hung over everything he did. Rousing everyone around him with screams was not something that produced a positive reaction, so Caine learned to muffle the noises. And, eventually, to wake himself.

The longest stretches Caine has slept in recent years, in fact, have been under anesthesia, mostly involving his wings. And though the medics all told him that he wouldn't dream, he did. Which was its own little hell, because then he _couldn't_ wake.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he's aware that it's not really normal, but it doesn't affect his performance of his duties and it has the added advantage of making it very hard to sneak up on him-which did short-circuit a number of bullying attempts by fellow Legionnaires.

By now, it's just a thing. He wouldn't mention it to anyone, and he's not sure Stinger even remembers. So when he's pulling on clean gear in the little cabin Captain Tsing has assigned him, feeling the stretch of newly-healed skin and muscle where Greeghan had bit through his shoulder, Caine is thinking about taking a quick nap, maybe stretching it to half an hour if he can. It might work; after the last few days, he's exhausted, and it takes a lot to get him to that point. That might keep the nightmares at bay for long enough.

The tentative knock on his hatch comes just as he's fastening his tunic, and Caine already knows who it is; for some reason he already recognizes the particular cadence of her stride. The surge of eagerness he feels is ridiculous, but he's done with denying it. "Come in, your Majesty."

It takes Jupiter a few seconds, but then the hatch is sliding open and she's grinning on the other side, wryly pleased with herself for figuring out the latch. "Check it out, I've graduated to first grade."

He has no idea what she's talking about, but he doesn't care; the mere sight of her is making him want to smile back. Jupiter steps inside the cabin, looking around curiously. Caine knows it's smaller than hers, but not by much. An Aegis cruiser doesn't have much in the way of luxury to offer, even to newly-Entitled queens.

She's had a shower, too, he can smell the dampness of her hair, and she's wearing fresh kit, but while her eyes are bright she also smells as tired as he is. Caine watches her scan the place; he has no idea why she's _there_ , but it doesn't matter, he just wants to bask in the fact that she _is_.

And despite all the stunningly vivid memories of earlier, it's still a surprise when Jupiter walks right up to him, slides her hand around the back of his neck, and puts her mouth on his.

It shuts down his brain just as quickly as the first time, thought drowned in sensation and absolute amazement, and he wants to hold onto her forever so it just never stops.

Of course, it does, but Jupiter has both arms around Caine's neck by then and his hands are on her waist, and there's _no_ space between them, and it's all he can do to watch her sweet mouth curve into another smile, this one a little worried. "Stinger said the doctors patched you up-are you really okay?"

It takes him a second to summon words. "I-I'm fine." Her jaw is still shadowed by a bruise. "You're not."

Her eyes narrow slightly. "I'm not taking people juice to fix something that'll heal on its own." One of her hands moves to his right shoulder. "As amazing as that stuff is."

It doesn't seem right that she should still be hurt when he is healed, but before Caine can muster an argument, she's kissing him again, and his wits flee. She tastes like clean water this time, and he remembers what it's like to burn with thirst-

"Did I say thank you for saving my life? Again?" she asks after a bit, forehead against his and her eyes closed. And he can't say _it's my job,_ because technically it isn't even though he wishes it could be, and he can't say _it was my life I was saving_ because that's too much even though it's true, so he tilts his head and tries to kiss her gently, to tell her it doesn't matter. Entitled don't thank Splices for anything, and the mere fact that he's _kissing_ one-

But _gentle_ gets left behind quickly, and Jupiter's hands are in his hair, making him shudder. It's not sex, or not entirely; it's _emotion_ , and far more dangerous thereby. Sex he can handle. Caring is foreign ground.

 _Oh, give it up. You were lost the first time you smelled her-_

She's shaking a little, and on instinct Caine slides his arms around her, moving as carefully as he can since he knows she's got more injuries than just the bruise he can see. Jupiter lets his mouth go with a gasp and presses her face against his collarbone, her hands working for purchase on the back of his tunic.

"Your Majesty," he says softly, and she moves enough for him to see her smile, small and tremulous.

"Thank you for saving my family." Her lids lift as she speaks, her eyes meet his, and that's it. Something in him just _dissolves_ , and he wants to cry, to howl, to never let go because the moment he does something else will take her from him.

His lips form her name, _Jupiter,_ and then without actual thought he's bending to lift her up. "You need to rest, your Majesty," he tells her softly, and turns to lay her in his bunk. It's perfect, this way he can watch over her while she sleeps-

-Except that Jupiter laughs, and somehow pulls him down next to her on the narrow mattress. There's not really room for two, so despite his hesitation Caine finds himself lying flat, with an Entitled draped half over him like a warm, slightly uncertain blanket. She lays her arms on his chest and props her chin on them, and smiles at him. "So do you."

"I...don't sleep." Because the _last_ thing he wants to do is lose it in front of her, gasping himself awake and out of the horror.

She blinks, inhaling, and he corrects himself before she gets the wrong idea. "I don't sleep _much_."

"Well, you can just rest then." Jupiter relaxes against him. "It's two in the morning in Chicago right now and Captain Tsing says she's gonna need me to sign some kind of report in a few hours, so I'm not heading home just yet."

She untucks one hand to reach out, her thumb drawing lightly across Caine's cheekbone, and he can't help moving into her touch. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she tells him softly. "But I know I don't want to do it alone."

He nods hesitantly. "You won't have to." He'll make his own choice this time, foreign as the idea is, and follow where she leads.

Jupiter's smile is a reward in itself. "Good." She leans up to brush her lips across his, too quick to catch, then pillows her head on his shoulder, squirming a little to get comfortable. "So rest now."

He's already got one arm around her waist, but as her eyes close Caine cautiously slides his free hand over until he can lace his fingers with hers. She smiles, grip tightening. "Rest," she repeats.

It's a command, isn't it? And others are on guard. So he obeys, shutting his eyes to concentrate on the slow tide of her breath.

And when he wakes four hours later, warm and entirely relaxed and still cradling his sleeping Queen, all he can do is smile in utter wonder, and hold her closer.

And close his eyes again.


End file.
